


Making Peace

by nellyn



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7717942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellyn/pseuds/nellyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Transfer from Fan Fiction Net.)</p>
<p>Sometimes it takes years to make peace with family. Especially when that peace is brought to you by the people who save you from yourself. Jack finally goes home. Features original characters as well as Sam, Daniel, Teal'c and Cassie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. David Lane

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own NCIS. Just like I don't own HP. Or X-Men. Or Stargate SG-1. Or Marvel anything (if I ever decide to enter THAT arena).

I look up from my roses to find Colin running out to the curb where he's parked his car. He needs a haircut, but I know nothing I say will ever change that fact. I chuckle to myself and use the porch rails in front of me to pull myself to my feet. Getting old has never been something I imagined for myself. Being the youngest kid of a family of seven means it's always your older brothers or sisters who have to face the black balloons and "over the hill" jokes long before you do. And leave it to my wife Anna to remind me that I should look for payback next week when I make it to fifty.

My niece Angie called yesterday and drove that age right into my brain for me. She had a college assignment that was meant to torture her family, I'm sure. So she came asking me about my life. Nothing much exciting there. I work at the nursery I founded years ago with my sister Dee, Angie's mother, and spend my free time playing with the roses while keeping Colin on track. Anna insists it's more along the line of Colin keeping me young.

That project has been bothering me though it pains me to admit. Anna has never agreed with my theory on family. Maybe it's because her own was small and less annoying. Or maybe it's because her parents are still alive. Might even be that she's never seen a child die. To be honest, never have I. My nephew was dead long before I last saw him. That's the skeleton in my family closet: a boy who never got to live.

I scowl at a muscle car as it comes speeding down our street. It nearly hits a black truck as it runs the stop sign. Damn kids will only kill someone one day. And with the way this world works lately, it'll be a minivan with a family of six in it. I toss the trowel in the wheelbarrow and begin my trek back to the garage. The roses will be ready for the state fair next month. Anna had been disappointed when I mentioned I might not participate this year. So I sucked it up and entered.

It's not the fair itself, mind you. It's more the roses. I started working on this breed almost thirteen years ago. I meant it to be a tribute to a life cut too short. Every spring the roses bloom and bring my nephew to mind. His laugh often put mine in motion. He loved the silliest jokes and had no problem learning new ways to gross out his mother. I smile to myself and finish setting my tools aside. I walk out the side door and stare out at the backyard. I want to win him a blue ribbon. I need to. Maybe I'll even mail it to my brother.

Now there's a topic: my older brother. I haven't seen him in thirteen years. I think I got a letter in the mail seven years ago. He mentioned something about being busy and not having time to visit. I frown at the memory. Our father had turned eighty, and he had something better to do. I stalk to the backyard and decide to dig holes for the two new trees I bought yesterday. It might calm me down. My brother always gets me riled.

Anna's voice drifts from the front lawn as I work. After this, I'll get out the grill, and we can make some brats. There's a short grilling season in Michigan. Unless you've lived somewhere colder or were born in Michigan, the season lasts five months due to rain, temperature and snow. Anna's from the Upper Peninsula, and I have the good grace of being born in the great state of the lutefisk. Sometimes I miss it and then I remember that the lake cuts some of the snow we get here. It's less shoveling in the long run.

There are steps on the sidewalk next to the house. And I can now make out some of what Anna is saying. She's talking about the weather and my last win at the state fair up north. I chuckle to myself and put aside the shovel. Must be one of the neighbors. Wiping my forehead with a handkerchief, I turn. The sky suddenly cracks open, and I try to think of something to say.

"Dave." His greeting is the same as it used to be. I notice Anna standing behind him glaring at me. She's wanted this for years; me, I don't know what I want anymore.

I fold the handkerchief and put it in my pocket to give myself some time. Then I look up at my brother and plaster a grin on my face. Better to look welcoming than brokenhearted, I remind myself. "Jack."

His brown eyes dart around the yard as he takes in what little of my life I want to share with him now: a backyard full of trees and bushes. "You do all this?"

I nod, "Colin helped."

His eyes darken for a moment, and I know the tone I used hurt him. I wanted it to. "Looks good. Nice trees." I remember enough about my brother to see the amusement in his face. Must be a joke I forgot over the years.

I look at Anna and smile, "Put out another place, hon?"

Anna pats Jack's shoulder and replies, "Already did."

That's news to me. "You knew he was coming." The accusation is barely hidden in my expression.

"Dave." His eyes become angry. "Let Anna be. I'm the ass here. Not her."

I snap, "Damn straight." I turn and grab the shovel I stuck in the ground beside me. "Toss that leather aside. You can at least be helpful." I try to ignore him as he kisses Anna's cheek and sets his coat on her arm. He walks over to the first tree and grabs hold of it.

"I wanted to come out and..." I cut him off.

"Do I care, Jack?" I look at him and try to keep tears from my eyes. "You certainly didn't give a damn."

He sets the tree down and slouches a bit. "I know. I..." his voice breaks a little. "I made a lot of mistakes, Dave. With you. With all of you."

I take the tree from him and set it in the hole. "Did you see the roses out front?"

Jack looks grateful for the lifeline I've thrown. He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "I did. You're taking them up north?"

I motion for him to pick up the shovel and begin to fill in around the roots. "I planned on it. They're finally ready. Anna kept at me last year to take them, but I'm glad I didn't."

"Another nursery had something similar?" His question almost sounds normal. But his voice gives away how hard he's trying. I decide to give in.

I reach out and grab his arm. "Jack and Charlie."

His face almost crumbles. "What?"

"I was right, Jack. They weren't ready last year. Now..." I let go of the tree and take his face in my hands. "I call them Jack and Charlie. Started them when I got home that year. Figured it would be something he'd love." I'm surprised by the tears I can't hold back any longer. I used to be stronger than that. Or maybe it's that I've missed my brother that much.

He steels himself and grins shakily. "Yeah. They're finally ready." He pulls back and grabs me in a hug. "I'm sorry, Dave."

I just let myself feel whole again. The empty spot in my heart fills up with peace: all because Jack's found his.


	2. Patrick Sean

The congregation leaves as quietly as they enter. It's always that way with funerals. I should know; I've said Mass for more than my share. I sigh and steel myself for the trip to the cemetary. No matter how many years I've been doing this I still wonder why God takes these children home. Gina Pinarello was only thirteen. I had her First Communion. I preached at her Baptism. I had the honor to join her parents in Holy Matrimony. Now, I could add another memory to my list and another prayer to my daily count.

I've always despised children's funerals. The coffins appear frightening; their small size is not natural. I think it means something that most come only in white. Isn't that the color of innocence? Gina's father Ted asked me if I thought it should be easier for them because Gina had fought five years against cancer. I was honest and told him that it should never be easy to bury a child. And then I told him that Gina wasn't my first, and that she would be far from my last.

I couldn't bear the grief in Ted's eyes. I'd seen it in the pain so many other families have suffered. So many of them begin to doubt God's love in their lives. And I can understand that. Only once was I that lost. I stop at the cloakroom to take a jacket. It's fitting for the skies to cry on this day. I used to believe that funerals should be happy occasions: a beloved family member was going to be with God. And then it happened to me. I lost the joy of a beautiful soul and the brother I loved with everything I had.

I step out the main entrance and take my place in the hearse with the funeral home driver. He waits for the signal from the other staff and then begins the slow procession to the cemetary where we'll lay Gina's body to rest. I watch the cars around us slow down or stop as we pass. Everyone always respects a funeral procession. Could it be bad luck to turn in front of one? Or will lightening strike the driver who cuts in halfway through? I can remember being in awe as a child whenever I saw one. Then Vietnam hit, and my friends began to be the ones in the hearse.

My best friend in seminary had joined the Army as a chaplain. He died in 1974, and his older brother died six weeks later with only days to go before the evacuation of Saigon. I've buried a brother after a tragic flight accident. And I said the Mass where I watched my family explode.

Children do things they shouldn't everyday. Jimmy, don't toss that ball in the house. Mary, I thought I told you to clean your room. I fumble with the zipper of my jacket and try not to think of anything but Gina. It's hard. He invades my thoughts constantly. Contrary to popular belief within my family, I could see it. I'd seen it before. Ted was a lucky father. He wasn't missing the piece of faith that let him grieve and survive. My younger brother had reached a point in his life where he had no faith left. And his life could have easily ended with his son's.

I've only mentioned it once and only to our father. I stumbled over my words and rubbed the tears from my eyes as I ranted about my fear... my failure. How could I help other parents? What right did I have when I couldn't even save my brother? It was my responsibility. I was the older brother. I was the priest. Why couldn't I find the words?

My father explained it me as best he could. There were no words. There was no comfort. Not for my brother. Not yet. But one day God would speak to him. The words would come. I just had to learn to trust that I might not be the one to say them. It was hard to come to terms with that fact. God didn't intend for me to heal this breach. I had another purpose: to pray for the one who would speak to him.

It's been years now, and I have no idea if that person has come to my brother or not. The only thing I know for sure is that I've not been called to say that particular Mass yet. I pray everyday that I won't have to. The hearse has stopped, and the driver touches my arm to alert me. I must have been caught up in my mind and not noticed our arrival. I open the door and step into the rain. Ted and his family wait up the hill where the coffin will be laid.

As I start the graveside service, I notice that the crowd has grown smaller. I know every member of this small congregation here except for two men in the back. The rain is plentiful enough to keep everyone deep underneath their umbrellas. I see Jane, Gina's mother, begin to shake. I reach out and take her hand. While my words give comfort, my thoughts turn to prayer. She imagines she is not strong enough to send her two young sons off to school next week. I know otherwise. Sara thought the same thing. That she wasn't strong enough to live the next day. She was wrong. She was strong enough to walk away.

I end the short service with a word of prayer. The Memorare has always been a favorite at times like this. An appeal to the Mother of God who has never turned away a soul. She is a woman who watched her own Son die. She, too, buried a child. Jane squeezes my hand as the prayer ends, and Ted thanks me quietly. I will stay for a moment and speak to God myself on Gina's behalf. The family and friends who have come this far go back to their cars.

I close my eyes and hold my hand out over the coffin. A final blessing for the soul of an innocent child gone to God. The voice startles me.

"I hate these things, Pat."

I turn and stare at the man in front of me in disbelief. I see a soul in front of me. It's torn and tarnished, but, for the first time in thirteen years, it's whole. "Jack?"

"Long time no see, huh?" He tries to grin, but I can see it crack around the edges.

"I could say that's true." My lips curve into a smile. "You've found faith again."

Jack rolls his eyes and replies, "I lost the right to faith a long time ago, Pat. You know that."

My words are meant to comfort as well as to remind. "The confessional is sancrosanct, Jack. What's between you and God is safe." When Jack came back from Iraq after months in that prison, I heard his words and his pain. I prayed for him and gave him absolution for the crimes he imagines he's committed.

"Now, there's something wrong with that image. How can it be between me and God if you heard everything?" I look at him and grin. That's the old Jack. The one who baits me for the joy of it.

The second man warns, "Jack. Stop."

I turn around and hold out my hand. "Patrick O'Neill. Two L's."

The smile is wide and the blue eyes dance as he takes my hand in his. "Where have I heard that before?"

A whisper in my mind makes me look this man over closely. He's at ease with me. That's not something I'm used to when it comes to Jack's friends. "And you are?"

Jack touches my arm and motions, "Daniel, Pat. Pat, Daniel Jackson."

Something in his voice startles me. I can't quite place it. Jack cares about this man. It's something deep and solid. I ponder it for a moment and then say, "You must be the one I prayed for."

Daniel's eyes widen, "Prayed for?"

Jack simply watches us both and answers for me. "I came to the house and heard you. I couldn't bear to stay when I was doing that to you."

I see the shock in Daniel's face as he looks at Jack. What he doesn't know is the meaning of Jack's little revelation. I know that it will never be mentioned again after this moment. And it will be enough for me. "That's why you brought him to me, Jack. This is the man God chose to speak to you." I wait for a moment. "What did He have to say?"

Jack looks at me and then at Daniel. "He told me it was a pity I wanted to die so much."

For the first time, I feel as if Daniel has realized what is happening here. He smiles warmly at Jack, "I'll only say this once, Jack. I'm glad He picked me."

Jack nods, "Me, too."


	3. Shannon Marie

My daughter eyes the Jell-O mold in front of us with a critical eye. "It's lopsided."

As much as it pains me to admit, Sarah's right. Somehow the pineapple shifted to make the entire mold look like a drunk sailor. This makes me smile, "Doesn't it look like your father and Jake the night Rachelle was born?"

She starts to giggle and then covers her mouth so that our husbands won't hear us in the living room. "They only had the one bottle of JD, Mom." Her brown eyes sparkle and remind me for a moment of someone best forgotten.

"One? I seem to remember two empty bottles on my kitchen floor that night." I pick up the plate holding the yellow concoction. "Whatever possessed you to use pineapple Jell-O with pineapple chunks in the first place?"

"Beats me." Sarah glances at the clock as I get out four bowls. "Mom?"

I mumur in her direction as I take a moment to dig for spoons in the flatware drawer. "Yes?"

"Two more bowls." She looks frightened for a moment.

"Rachelle wants some? Go get the high chair then." I go back and grab two more bowls. "Who's the last one for?"

Sarah just looks at me in shame. "You know Rachelle doesn't like Jell-O, Mom. It's for some quests."

As she mentions this, I hear Don get up and answer the door as the bell rings insessantly. "Guests? Friends of yours, honey?" For the first time, I truly look my daughter in the eye.

"No. Not mine." She looks at the kitchen doorway as her father brings two men back to us. I recognize one though it's been years. The other is nearly too tall for the doorway and is wearing a horrible cowboy hat.

I try to keep calm, "Jack?" I think back to the phone call I got from David last week. He had mentioned that Jack had gone all the way to Michigan to see him. And I know from Pat's call yesterday that Jack was just in Minneapolis to see him.

My older brother smirks at me and walks over to hug Sarah close, "Hey, you. Heard you went out and got a munchkin of your own."

The tall man with Jack eyes us carefully. His voice is deep and resonant, "I see no yellow brick road here, O'Neill."

Jack just shakes his head as if this is an everyday occurrence. "Not that kind of munchkin, T."

"I see." This "T" nods in my direction, "It is an honor to meet you, Shannon O'Dell."

Sarah smiles and tries to hide it from her uncle. "This is the friend you mentioned."

Jack nods and sees the bowls on the counter. He grabs them and sets them on the breakfast table in the corner. "Didja make pineapple? T loves pineapple."

My daughter replies as she fills two of the bowls and hands them to her father to take back to the living room. "Of course. I even put chunks in it. Had to go to three stores to find that particular flavor, mind you."

"I like chunks, Sarah Nixon. It is much appreciated that you endeavored to locate pineapple on my behalf."

I take this moment to interrupt the insanity happening in my kitchen. "Jack? You could introduce us."

My brother suddenly remembers the manners our mother used to have to threaten to beat into him. "Shannon, this is Murray."

I protest, "You called him T."

Jack just takes a bowl of Jell-O and hands it to the man sitting next to him at the table. "Nickname." He then proceeds to take a bit spoonful of Jell-O and down it in one gulp. "Carter will kill me, T. It's not blue."

"Indeed it is not, O'Neill." Murray stops a moment to consider the apparent problem. "However we could remind Samantha Carter that the Jell-O from the wrestling match was blue."

It's a good thing my daughter wasn't carrying my granddaughter at that moment. As it was, she drops the bowl in her hand and chokes back laughter. "You've been to a Jell-O match, Uncle Jack!? What would Grandma say?"

I feel like I should be institutionalized. This conversation is going nothing like I imagined. David mentioned a deep connection being reawakened. Pat had spoken of a man whole again who can finally let people in again. Me? I get a pineapple-loving cowboy. Someone shoot me.

This makes me pause. And I notice that Sarah is staring at me in shock. Oh. I said that out loud. I'm surprised to find myself numb. How do I even begin to explain this?

Jack just shrugs at me, "People say it all the time, Shannon." His friend is now eyeing me suspiciously. Yep, this is definitely NOT the man who met Pat.

My voice is shaky, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." I run a hand through my short hair and try to look my brother in the eye. "I think I might have a little repressed anger here."

Murray then speaks, "You sound like Mackenzie, Shannon O'Dell."

"Mackenzie?" I'm lost again. This is too surreal.

Jack volunteers, "Shannon's a shrink, T. Like Mackenzie."

That strikes me. "You're seeing a psychiatrist, Jack?" Thank God one of us is nuts. I'm still not sure which one just yet.

"Nah. I'd have to be nuts, delusional, wacko, two fries short of a Happy Meal to see Mackenzie." Jack grins at his friend as they share a memory between them. Both men are truly amused, I think.

Then Murray mentions, "That is not the order of the phrase, O'Neill."

Jack thinks for a moment. "You're right, T. And I don't have any ketchup or mustard. Ah well." He shovels another spoonful of Jell-O into his mouth. He starts to speak, and I can't help it.

"Mouth closed, Jack."

Sarah finally figures she should leave before she loses the ability to breathe from laughing so hard. She kisses her shocked uncle's cheek and waves to Murray as she goes.

It's then that Jack finds the moment to swallow. "You sound like Mom." His voice sounds whiny to me.

"I'm a mother, Jack. I'm supposed to sound like Mom. Hopefully without all of the insanity you and Bill brought into the mix." Then I consider my two boys, Kyle and John. Yeah. Oops.

"This is good pineapple Jell-O, Shannon O'Dell." Murray has finished his bowl and eyes Jack's oddly. My brother takes one look at his friend and shoves his bowl over. "Thank you, O'Neill."

"Welcome, T. You are a growing boy after all." This Jack is the boy I remember sitting on the porch when my dates arrived with our two oldest brothers and staring at them like escaped mental patients. Why is it that I'm the one who gets the meaningless apology?

There's that silence again. I really have to pay attention to what I'm saying versus what I'm thinking here. Jack stands up and wraps me in his arms. "It's never meaningless, Shannon. Just late."

I grab hold of my brother and promise that this time I won't let him go without a fight. "That's okay. It's just like every birthday card I've ever gotten from you... belated."

Murray punctuates the moment, "Indeed."


	4. Kevin Michael

This is getting ridiculous. I mean, I know my father had to bail me and my brother David out of the local stir once many years ago, but seriously this is too much. This is my town for crying out loud. Did she even think about how this would look to the guys I work with? I slam the car door and let my daughter proceed me into the house. I need to calm down. I have to be mellow. Somehow I have to deal with this. Who am I kidding? This kind of stuff was always Jean's thing more than mine. I was the doting, simple dad. She was the disciplinarian.

The boys are sitting in the living room because they know they can hear everything from there. How convenient that the volume is turned down on that monster TV we got two years ago. Normally it's so loud I can't think when I get home. Now, you could probably hear crickets. Those little boogers are gonna kill me. If Liz doesn't do it first that is.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" I guide my daughter into the kitchen so that we can have some privacy. I am definitely not equipped to handle this kind of thing.

"No," is the sullen reply.

I take a breath and emulate my mother. "I could have left you there. I didn't have to post bail."

Liz glares at me as she hitches herself up onto the counter in front of me. "Then leave me there next time."

"You're twenty-three years old, Liz. I should hope there won't be a next time." I can't help but cringe. I sound exactly like my mother. When did I get so spineless? Sorry, Mom.

A snort is my only answer. You know, when I got married, no one ever mentioned it was going to be like this. I wasn't warned that girls could be such trouble once they passed the "adoring daddy's girl" phase. I'm pretty sure the marriage banns didn't include a section on bailing your child out of jail. And I sure as hell was not told that I could lose my wife to breast cancer and be left with three kids who are too damn smart for their own good. No wonder my brother lost it.

"We're not going to do this again, Liz. I mean it." I try to sound authoritative. Instead I sound pathetic. What kind of cop can't lay the smack down on his own deliquent kid? Must have missed that day at the Academy. "You were probably off scamming on chicks, Kev," is what Jean would say to me right now. And then she'd follow it up with a nice round of grounding on all sides. Liz wouldn't see the inside of her car for the next two years, and I'd be tied to the living room sofa with the Monopoly board glued to my lap.

I try again, "Getting picked up for shoplifting at ten is decent. Hell, Liz, it's a right of passage. But this is completely unacceptable."

Her eyes roll. Great, now she's channeling my older brother. "What do you care?"

And there it is. Liz's response of choice for the past three years has always been able to break my heart. You'd think I'd be used to it now. I deal with murderers, armed robbers, gang members and senile old ladies on a daily basis. You'd think I'd have tougher skin. "I care, Liz."

And the tennis ball shoots back to the other side of the court. "Sure doesn't look like it."

The return: "You've been on a slow slide downhill since your mother died, Liz. You can't keep this up."

And point: "I'm the only one that seems to even realize she's gone."

I jump up from the chair and eye my daughter. I can feel myself losing control of my temper. It's something that can take a while... Unless you attack my grief over my wife. "You will go upstairs. You will not use your phone. You will not leave this house. And I will deal with you when I calm down." I turn around and stalk out into the living room.

Billy and Nate look up from their perches on the sofa. Nate's voice is quiet, "She doesn't mean it, Dad."

I nod, "I know, guys. She's hurt, and she wants the world to hurt, too." I reach out and ruffle Billy's mop of hair. "You need to think about dinner. I have to work tonight."

Nate grins, "Pizza?"

I chuckle, "Something with some kind of vegetable value. Pizza is not a vegetable."

Billy interjects, "Chocolate is."

I raise an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?" I eye my oldest son. He looks like my older brother Pat while Nate has a certain hint of David to him.

"It's a bean. Grows on a tree." Nate volunteers. "Heard one of the girls in Chem 101 mention it."

"Thank God you're learning something in college." I give them each a fist-bump. "Later, dudes."

Nate just waves at me. Billy gets up and follows me to the door. "Someone called while you were out."

I sigh, "The chief?"

He shakes his head, "A woman. She sounded hot." His eyebrows waggle at me. "She was asking for you."

Leave it to my oldest boy to imply all sorts of illicit activities from a simple phone call. "Did she give a name?"

"Cassie." Billy smiles, "She's dropping by to see you. I did mention you'd gone down to spring Liz from the slammer. She sounded amused."

I stare at my son in shock. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Billy just smiles and motions to the door, "You'll be late."

I look at my watch. "I've got an hour. The station's not that far." My son simply pushes me to the door and "helps" me through it onto the porch.

"Enjoy, Dad." He slams the door on me, and I shake my head. I try to think of every woman I've ever met but come up blank. Cassie? Doesn't ring a bell. I turn and find a black truck sitting in my driveway. It's blocking me in. I step down from the porch and get ready to flash my badge. It's nice to be the king as Mel Brooks once said.

The passenger-side door opens, and a young women jumps down. "Hi. You must be Kevin." Her eyes sparkle in a way that should be criminal. Something is going on here. I raise my hand up to shield my eyes. Who the hell is driving that beast?

"I'm just getting dropped off. He thinks I can help." She holds out her hand, "I'm Cassie."

"The one from the phone call?" I am totally lost now.

"Yep. I'm here to try and smooth things over a bit. Sympathetic ear and all." She nods towards the truck. "And he's here to give you a ride."

"Sympathetic ear?" I try again to see who's waiting for me in that truck.

Cassie nods, "I lost my Mom a few years ago. He thought I might be able to make some headway. Buy you some time." Her smile falters for a moment then returns. "I'm glad I got to come here. I haven't been out much since graduation a couple of weeks ago."

I just wave my arm at the front door and decide not to question this girl's motives. Hell, if she can make sense of Liz, I don't care who she is or who she's with. I start down the driveway toward the truck and finally make out the driver. I consider it smooth that I don't stumble as I open the door and jump in.

"Kev." Jack eyes me critically. "Shoplifting?"

I nod, "Liz is a regular Jesse James in training." I buckle the seat belt and settle in. It must be my turn now. "Talked to Pat yesterday. He said you'd been to see Shannon."

Jack nods and shifts the truck into reverse. "Charlotte couldn't talk some sense into Liz?"

I shake my head, "Charlotte doesn't speak to my kids, Jack. She doesn't talk to any of our kids." I can tell this revelation hurts my brother. I reach out and set my hand on his arm. "It's not your fault, Jack. Charlotte has to make her own peace."

He looks at me from the corner of my eye, "Is that what this is?"

I shrug, "Sounds like it. You go and hash it out with Dave. You bring Pat's angel to see him. Shannon was really into that cowboy you dragged with you. And I get a kid."

Jack responds quietly, "Cassie's a long story, Kev."

"Tell me." I try and smile, "I just left her with my kids for crying out loud. She'd better not be a serial killer."

His snort is loud, "You couldn't find one of those with flashing lights guiding you in."

I just let it slide. "And who made Detective while you got a desk job pushing papers?" I give in to the juvenile tone the conversation has taken and stick my tongue out at Jack.

He responds, "I could take that off easily."

"Eeww. Tongues as trophies. I definitely don't want to see your freezer." I look out the window as we continue to the station.

"I knew Cassie's Mom. A damn fine Air Force officer. She died in the line of duty." Jack's words are tense.

"You took her in?"

What is that!? I eye my brother suspiciously. He's actually got a tint of pink to his cheeks. Blushing!? There must be pigs flying because that has never happened in the bevy of years I've know my brother.

He just answers me. As if that will hide it. Pfft. "Carter took her in."

There's something there. "Carter?"

"I'm taking her to see Dee." Jack takes the turn into the parking lot and finds a place pretty quickly. I have a feeling he'd rather not be having this part of the conversation.

"Dee?" I smirk, "Looking for approval are we?"

Jack snaps back, "No!" He takes a breath. "I just want to scare Carter a bit." He winks.

"Ahhh... She's a tomboy, is she?" I grin. Dee'll chew her up and spit her out.

"Yeahsureyoubetcha." Jack taps his hands on the steering wheel. "Builds motorcycles in her spare time."

I laugh out loud. I just can't hold it in. "Well, it's too bad I won't be able to see that one. It should be good. Like the Ali-Foreman fight in 1974."

Jack just nods. He can't hide his amusement. "Carter can take her."

"I don't know, Jack." I try to sound doubting. Maybe I can get more out of him.

He just gets this settled look on his face. "She could take T, you know, Shannon's cowboy."

I whistle, "She said he was huge and built like a brick..."

Jack nods, "Yep. Danny's got money on that one. He's holding out for T. Me? I know where to lay my money."

I unbuckle the belt and open the truck door. "Don't be a stranger, Jack." He watches me carefully.

"We good?"

I just adjust my holster rig and nod. "Always were, Jack. You forget. I've been there." I give him a wave and head toward the station. Yeahsureyoubetcha. Never was bad blood between us. I grin at the desk sargeant as I head back to the elevator. Yep, all is good with the world. Flying pigs and all.


	5. Deidre Lynne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to let you all know that I LOVED writing this chapter. I had a lot of fun playing with Daniel and Sam's parts in this. With this chapter I wanted to emphasize Jack's lack of knowledge of his siblings. It's been thirteen years after all.

I set the teapot down on the side table and watch this woman sitting with me. Oddly she looks a bit like Sara did years ago. Jack certainly does have a type, I guess. Her first sip is quickly covered by another. She either doesn't like the chamomile tea or it's too hot. Let's hope it's the first. I'd hate for this woman to not have a personality.

She stares at me over the tea cup in her hand. I try and give my brother what he wants. The very fact that he would do this to a woman who can clearly toss him twenty feet without breaking a nail is interesting. He went out back to talk to my husband thirty minutes ago. Let me just say that Jack never left Sara alone with me. Not once. Ever.

"And what is it you do, Samantha?" I find myself amused at her frantic expression. I wonder if it's the lace doilies on the coffee table in front of her or the mauve upholstery on the sofa. Maybe it's a little bit of both.

"I'm a theoretical astrophysicist." She takes a sip of the tea.

I nod, "Which is?"

She seems stumped for a moment. "I work on Deep Space Telemetry for NORAD."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. This poor woman. "So you track Santa Claus?"

Her eyes flash in anger for a moment, but she recovers nicely. "Santa Claus doesn't exist."

"I know that, of course. It's just on the news every year. I've always wondered if they have people actually make the information believable, that's all." I smile sweetly at her. She really is impressive if Kevin's telling the truth. Maybe I should throw her a bone.

"I don't really handle that department."

I pick up the teapot. "More tea?"

Sam shakes her head. "No thank you. I'm more of a coffee fan."

"I would have to say that Tommy is the same way. He can name the location of any Starbucks within a fifty mile radius." I pour myself more tea and settle back in my chair.

Sam's smile is real this time. "I know someone like that. He's obsessed."

"I should warn you, Samantha. Jack is trying to rile me." I put my cup aside and watch this woman closely. "He thinks my fancy dishes and floral drapes will cause you to run screaming."

She sets her own cup on the coffee table in front of her. "I had an inkling. Jack's a little demented on a good day."

"It comes from being a member of our family, I'm afraid. Thank goodness Shannon's a shrink. We're saving millions on therapy." I pause for a moment. "Jack's waiting for you to come charging out into the backyard begging for something less frightening than lace. I believe he even has a bet on you."

Her eyes flash again. What triumph! I've got one up on Jack. "I heard something about it from a mutual friend. Personally, I think he'd make a good pallbearer at Jack's funeral."

That image is perfect. Just wonderful. "How did you meet Jack, Samantha?" I stop, "Or is it Sam?"

She smiles warmly, "Sam is fine. No one calls me Samantha except Murray."

I place the name in my mind. "That's the gentleman Shannon met?"

Sam nods, "And Daniel is the one Patrick met."

"That still doesn't answer my question, Sam." I really want to know the story behind this.

"I guess Daniel met Jack first. They'd worked together for the Air Force. And then about a year later I met Jack. Murray was next. We've been a fam..." she stops dead. "I mean..."

I just smile, "I know, Sam. Jack needed family back then. And we didn't know how to help him. Personally, I think you're the ones who brought him back to us."

She scowls slightly, "He's supposed to be in here. You know," she waves her hand at me. "Fixing this. Why isn't he?"

"Jack can be a bit of an annoying older brother at times. Trust me. He wouldn't leave you alone in here if he doubted me and my reactions. There's just one thing he didn't count on." I lean forward and look around closely. I can't afford Jack finding this next bit out. "I got hooked on that Orange County motorcycle show years ago."

Sam laughs and covers her mouth quickly. "And here I was imagining torture by knitting needles from what Jack told me."

I hold up my right hand as if swearing in court. "I haven't picked up a knitting needle in a week, I promise. You're safe."

"My mother used to knit." Sam picks up her tea cup again. "I hated every sweater she made me. They were usually pink."

I smile, "My daughter Angie is the same way. This week, I think her hair is black with purple stripes." I sigh, "At least she got rid of the lip ring."

Sam's eyebrow raises a notch, "Lip ring?"

I nod, "It had a gold ball on it. Tommy used to threaten to hitch her to the car with it."

"I can imagine." Sam sips her tea and continues, "Cassie never went through that phase. Or if she did, Janet handled it. I never heard about it."

"Lucky woman." I sit up as I hear the back door open. "They're coming. Shall we?"

Sam smirks at me. "I'd love to."

And that's how Jack and Tommy find us... Knitting. I think Jack's jaw hit the floor. Actually, I'm pretty sure it did. There's a scuff where it hit the wood. Thank goodness I had that sock already started. It made Sam look quite adept if I do say so myself. And it's a great shade of pink. All it needs is the final nail in Jack's coffin.

Sam looks up in surprise and grins, "Look, Sir. I thought pink would be a great color for you."

Tommy's eyeing me suspiciously as Jack chokes. He then smacks my brother on the back. "Jack, are you alright?" I try my best to look concerned. "After all of this togetherness, I'd hate to have you drop dead."

Jack glares at me. "What did you do?"

"I talked Samantha into some knitting. Of course, I had to teach her. But she's a quick learner." I hold up my own small potholder. "And I even had time to start a little something for myself." Sam starts to laugh, and I can't help but join her.

God bless Tommy. He just turns to Jack and says it all. "Welcome back, Jack."


	6. For William Francis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that I enjoyed this foray into Stargate. I will admit I am MUCH better at writing Jack, Sam and Daniel than I will ever be writing Teal'c. Hopefully I did him and Chris Judge justice. This chapter does not include the sibling it is dedicated to. As mentioned briefly before, Jack's oldest brother Bill has been dead for some time. It's more a peace being made with Bill's daughter Charlotte than Bill.

The restaurant is pretty crowded tonight. I manage to guide Moira in and get her seated. Of course, my oldest son Patrick reminds me I'm much too old to be traipsing around getting everyone else settled. What does he know? Just because he "talks" to God. I think he pulls that card out too often when it comes to me since I turned eighty-seven. I'm not going to drop dead. Not yet.

Moira lets Dee's Tommy pour her a glass of wine. A small one. She's the driver tonight. And I want to celebrate this blessed event. A good Irish family gathering is about to occur. It's been years. Thirteen to be exact. I turn as my granddaughter touches my arm.

"Granda? You should sit down." My Charlotte eyes me with suspicion. "They won't come any faster if you're wandering the restaurant."

I pat her cheek and brush a stray bit of hair from her eyes. "Maybe it's you who should be sitting down. Talk to your cousins."

I truly dislike the way Charlotte's eyes darken in pain. She's been like that since that awful day long ago. Silly girl. Thinks she as guilty in all of this as my Jack did. "I just want to greet them all. Your Aunt Dee speaks only good things of this Sam woman."

For a moment Charlotte looks curious, "Auntie Dee likes her?"

From what I hear, everyone does. Of course, only Dee and Tommy have met her. It's only Jack's phone call two weeks ago that lets me in on the secret tonight. "Go sit down, love. I'll meet them at the door. Keep your Nana from getting too drunk."

Charlotte snickers, "You're the one who should watch it. No whiskey, Granda. I mean it."

I nod solemnly and then promise myself I'll have just a nip when Jack gets here. After all, I'm about to add three more children to this family. I watch the snow fall outside as I wait. Charlie, my boy, you'd love this. I smile at the memory of my grandson. It took a while to remember him with anything but grief. And now Jack can do the same thing if his visits are to be believed.

A dark SUV pulls up to the door and two men get out. The larger of the two opens the front passenger-side door and helps a woman out into the snow. The three speak to the driver and turn to enter the restaurant. I wait until they get their coats off before shuffling over.

"You must be Murray!" I hold out my arms to the man wearing the cowboy hat. "Welcome to the family!" The man stiffins for a moment and then yields but an inch. I pull back and look at the beautiful woman standing at his side. "And the lovely Sam." I pull her close and kiss her cheek. "Dee was right, I see." The door behind them opens again to let my son into the warmth of the lobby. He elbows the man wearing glasses and motions him my way.

"Mr. O'Neill, it's a plea..." I grab him close and laugh.

"Danny, my boy! Stop talking. This isn't the time for words." I step back and pat his cheek. He blushes and pulls his glasses off to wipe them dry from the snow.

And there's my boy. My Jack. I clench my teeth for a moment to keep the tears from falling. Irish men don't cry. They drink. "Jack." My voice betrays me as it cracks.

"Da." Jack reaches out and holds me close. "Looking old, aren't ya?"

I grumble half-heartedly as I cling to my son. "Missed you, boy."

Jack steps back from my arms and nods, "Me, too, old man."

I humph at his cheeky tone and grin at his friends. "Come on to the back. We've stolen the entire place for the night. Of course, it's Jake's place. He's Sarah's husband. You met Sarah, Murray." The tall dark man nods stoically.

"Indeed, I did, Francis O'Neill." He looks around at the dozens of decorations that litter the walls as we walk. Sam steps forward and takes my arm.

"I'm glad you invited us, Mr. O'Neill." I'm glad I can hide my surprise. So that's how Jack got them here.

I smile at Sam. "I wouldn't have it any other way, would I, boy? And it's Da for all of you."

Jack snorts from the back of the small group as we enter the back room filled with family. I can hear him pointing people out to that Daniel of his. I, meanwhile, take Sam and Murray on a circuit of the room. As I sit Sam down beside Moira and place Murray with Sarah and Jake, I notice Charlotte is gone. Damn silly girl.

Jack grabs a chair by Patrick who motions Daniel to join them. I look around the table and smile warmly. Finally. A journey thirteen years in the making ends tonight. My family is together again. I think again of my Charlie. He loved planes and anything that had a motor. He'd like Sam a lot. And I can see him telling the bullies at school about his bodyguard Murray. Scare the piss out of 'em. I don't think he'd dislike the cussing in other languages he'd do with that Daniel teaching him.

I sit down at the head of the table and motion to the empty chair. "We've got one more joining us. Now, Jake, let's get these people some drinks to warm them up."

Daniel peers up from a conversation with Patrick, "We could wait. Don't rush on our account."

Moira looks at me curiously. I shake my head, "Danny Boy, don't be silly. I've had enough silliness from that son of mine." I beam a smile in Jack's direction. "Charlotte will be along in a minute."

And that brings Jack's eyes up from the menu in front of him. "Charlotte, Da?"

I nod, "I'm sure she just stepped out for a minute. Won't be long at all." I get David's Colin to help take the drink orders. Now would be the best time to slip that whiskey in. Charlotte isn't here to see it.

The talk around the table begins anew as we settle ourselves in for a long family dinner. It takes me a minute to notice Jack's gone missing. I notice Moira pointing me toward the kitchen doors with her eyes. I make a production of standing up and wave all attempts at help away. I'm an old man... I'm not dead. I'll let people carry me then.

I head to the doors and find Jack just entering Jake's office. Ah, that's where my Charlotte went. I get a little closer and listen carefully.

Jack's voice wavers as he approaches Charlotte. "Hey, kid."

She doesn't turn around, "I shouldn't have come. It's too much."

He just nods at her. "I know. If I didn't have them with me, I wouldn't be here."

That's when my precious granddaughter turns. "Why are you in here then, Dad?"

His stance changes. I should have known that might break him. I understood it years ago. Now, I worried it might destroy them. I get myself together to step in when Jack speaks.

"Charlie, I missed you. I made a mistake. I hurt you. I hurt Sara. And I made you both pay for it." He stops as if gathering his thoughts. "I promised your father years ago I'd take care of you and your mother if something happened. And when it did, I was there."

Charlotte turns and looks at Jack. I can see she's been crying. Silly girl. "You didn't save my mother."

"I couldn't, Charlie." Jack sighs and leans back against the open doorway. "Anita loved Bill so much. Maybe too much. She couldn't live without him. I know how that can be."

She snaps at him in anger, "You did nearly the same thing. Leaving was as much dying."

Jack takes a breath and quietly responds, "I know too much how Anita was, Charlie. I almost didn't survive it. I used to be like you. I wondered what the hell she was thinking leaving you behind. But I realized that she knew I was there for you. That I loved Bill enough to step in for him. That, between Sara and I, you'd be loved and safe. I'm sorry I messed that up."

Charlotte wipes at her eyes as I watch this final piece fall into place. Patrick would tell me that my son Bill was holding a guiding hand in this. I don't know. I think Jack and Charlotte just need each other too much to let it go any longer. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to find Daniel behind me.

"Is Jack okay?" His blue eyes are worried.

I just nod and turn my attention back to the office.

"I couldn't wash it off, Dad. I tried. For years, you know. But blood just doesn't come out." Charlotte swallows and continues, "I didn't need Uncle Pat or Aunt Shannon. I needed you."

Jack takes it like a decent father would. He suddenly smiles, "You remember that awful lamp Sara had in the living room?"

Charlotte looks confused for a moment before she smiles. "The ball broke it, Dad."

He snorts in disbelief. "I come in the house to find Sara glaring at you both. And what do you two do? You point to each other and tell her Charlie did it."

She giggles, truly giggles. "Charlie did do it. We just never told which one."

Jack nods, "Those are the things we remember, Charlie. Not the blood. Not anymore." He steps forward and folds Charlotte in his arms and says again, "I missed you, kid."

Behind me, Daniel pulls on my arm as Charlotte whispers back, "Missed you, too, Dad."

I let Daniel lead me back to the table. I think he's surprised as much as awed by Jack. But me, I've known for years my son can be good with words. He just needs time to compose them. As the two of us men settle back at the table, Jack and Charlotte join us. She takes her seat near me, and Jack returns to his.

The meal goes on as we tell stories and jokes. I hear from Murray about how well Jack can juggle. He'd been able to for years, but I have a feeling this is something he and Murray share. Sam tells me that Jack believes the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle can be attributed to magnets of all things. More laughter comes with that one. The story Daniel tells involves a night Jack's hockey game got canceled that led to a documentary on the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The eye roll from my son tells me all I need to know about that one.

We're onto to dessert when I notice Jack pull something out of his pocket. Ah, it's time then. I stand up and motion my family to silence. I look at each of my children and grandchildren in turn. I take in my newest children Daniel, Sam and Murray. "Things happen in this life which can never be understood. They bend and break us. We may yield, but we never surrender. We find what we need to survive. To that end, I make a toast." I raise my glass of wine and watch the entire table follow.

"To Murray, a perfect foil for my son. Your dedication to him does you and him nothing but justice." The man in question nods at me in thanks. I continue.

"To Sam, able to talk my son into a hole." My words are broken by amused laughter. "You may never see what you are to us. We'll be years showing you." I turn to my final target.

"To Daniel, without you I would have no son." The silence is thick. I pause and smile at Patrick. "We owe you what we can never pay. We can only welcome you home to family."

I smile at the beloved family in front of me. "Cheers." The volume rises as we all take drinks, clap and hug the ones closest to us. In the midst of this, Jack drops a box on the table and slides it across to Sam. She looks up in surprise.

Jack shrugs, "Well, Carter?"

I watch Sam pick up the box and open it. She takes a moment and then closes it before setting it on the table in front of her. She looks at Jack as everyone notices what is happening. I see Daniel's grin as he sees the look on Sam's face.

She just stares at Jack. He fidgets a little in his chair before she puts him out of his misery. "Yes, sir."

Jack leans back in his chair and grins. He turns to me and motions to Sam, "I got a yes, Da."

It's then that Daniel reaches out across Patrick and hits Jack. "You call her Carter to ask her to marry you!?"

Murray nods, "That is unacceptable. As Samantha Carter's family, Daniel Jackson and I must protest, O'Neill."

Jack rolls his eyes and then looks at Sam, "Marry me, Sam?"

She just laughs, "Of course, Jack."


End file.
